Armande Voizin: Sure you didn't put booze in that?
Vianne Rocher: Something better.
Armande Voizin: Perhaps you should give it to my daughter. Melt that chilly disposition of hers.

What's the decor? Early Mexican brothel?

Armande Voizin: [reading poetry to Luc] It's perfectly wretched, isn't it?
Luc Clairmont: Perfectly.

Armande Voizin: I've got something for you boy. I've been carrying it around since your last birthday. It's a book of poetry.
Luc Clairmont: Oh. Thank you.
Armande Voizin: You don't like poetry?
Luc Clairmont: Oh no, no, of course. I do.
Armande Voizin: Neither do I. It's not that kind of poetry.

Armande Voizin: Your cinnamon looks rancid.
Vianne Rocher: It's not cinnamon, it's a special kind of chili pepper.
Armande Voizin: Chili pepper in hot chocolate?
Vianne Rocher: Mm-hm. It'll give you a lift.

Vianne Rocher: I have two announcements. Number one, if you enjoyed what you ate here, you're going to love my chocolate festival on Sunday.
Armande Voizin: Advertise on your own time. What's for dessert?
Vianne Rocher: That brings me to number two. It is my duty to announce, that there is no dessert here tonight.
[guests sound disappointed]
Vianne Rocher: Because it's on Roux's boat.
[uncomfortable silence]
Armande Voizin: Any complaints, see me.

Vianne Rocher: What do you see?
Armande Voizin: Not a damned thing.
Vianne Rocher: Come on, it's a game. What do you see?
Armande Voizin: I see a cranky old woman too tired to play games.
Vianne Rocher: Oh. I've got just the thing for you.

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